Sins of Their Past
by iamaneevee
Summary: The survivors have gotten off the island, and settled down. The year is now 1941, and one Marcus Carter has found his father;s old book. What new hell will be brought down upon them?


Okay, okay, I know. I never should've taken the book, so much have even looked at it. That was something Dad would say, time and time again whenever I went to the attic.

Don't touch the chained chest.

 _Don't touch the chained chest._

 _ **Don't touch the chained chest.**_

This time…I didn't listen. Either way…I opened up a whole new can of worms.

My name is Marcus James Carter. You may have heard that whole ordeal about the summer camp with Hazel Higgsbury and my sisters and whatnot…but this is about a whole 'nother type of camping.

Well, it's more like survival.

Anyway, enough of my own rambling. Let's get to the story, shall we?

It was just another nightmare, another rude awakening in from the peacefulness of sleep. I swung my feet out of bed, and made my way downstairs to the kitchen where Dad was normally reading or something, waiting for me.

Y'see, Dad and I have this nightly tradition. He can't sleep, I have nightmares, so what we do is we each have a cup of tea and talk. It's been almost nightly since I was five years old.

Tonight, however, was a slightly different story. Dad wasn't downstairs waiting for me. Where was he?

Carefully, I walked back upstairs and cracked open the door to my parent's bedroom. Dad was there, alright, snoring. It was about time he had gotten some sleep.

I decided to let him rest and went back downstairs to make myself my own cup of tea. It helped after a brutal nightmare…but recently, they had always been the same thing.

 _A black throne, broken and crumbling…shadows stirring in it's midst, voices calling out to me. They wanted me to sit on it. They called me their Prince, their chosen one…It terrified me. Then the shadows would lash out, and drag me closer, and closer…I would always wake up before the end._

Halfway through my cup of tea, I began to hear the voices again.

 _The attic the attic the attic_

 _We're in the attic_

I almost dropped my cup.

Shakily, I set it down and made my way upstairs to the latch that led up. I pulled on it, heart beating faster…

 _THE ATTIC THE ATTIC THE ATTIC_

 _WE'RE IN THE ATTIC_

I climbed into the must attic. It was filled with old boxes and chests, old theatre props and costumes...I had wasted many a childhood afternoon rummaging through this place. But the voices seemed to be coming from one spot in particular...the old chained chest.

The chest was black and dusty, the chains rusted and old. I had always wondered what secrets lie inside it, and it looked like I was about to get my answer...because the lock was open.

 _ **THE ATTIC THE ATTIC THE ATTIC**_

 _ **WE'RE IN THE ATTIC**_

Heart beating faster and faster, I knelt down and removed the chains and opened the chest.

Everything went quiet. The only thing in the chest was a few peices of what looked like gold, a black stain, a few purple gems, and...the book.

It was old, that much was obvious. The black cover looked like it was about to fall off, and the pages were yellowed and crisp with age.

But the bright red M on the cover still shone bright, and I picked it up. It was unreasonably warm in my hands, and with a sudden impulse, I closed the chest and chained it, before taking the book back to my room.

The next morning, I got up early, and dressed quickly. The book was still under my pillow, right where I had left it. I took it and shoved it into my satchel, and made my way downstairs.

Mom and Dad were already up. Mom was making breakfast and Dad was already reading the morning paper, drinking a rather strong smelling cup of coffee.

"Out so soon, my boy?" He raised his eyebrow at me.

"Y-yeah. I'm headed to the library..." I nearly stuttered.

"Won't you have some breakfast first?" Mom looked over.

"Not hungry," I lied.

"Alright...just be back in time for lunch." Mom gave me a nod, and I was out the door.

I had a friend who's grandmother worked at the library. Her name was Agatha Wickerbottom, and she was one of the smartest people I knew. She knew a lot about old books, too, which was a bonus.

I walked as fast as my lungs would allow, taking in the crisp morning air. I didn't let the cold deteer me from my mission.

I zipped up the library steps two at a time, and opened the door.

Agatha's grandmother was at the front desk.

"Mrs. Wickerbottom," I approached, half out of breath. "Is-Is Agatha in? I need to show her something..."

"I am afraid she is home sick today," Wickerbottom looked up at me.

"Could you help me? I have an old book that I found in the attic..."

"Of course boy, let me see it."

I reached in to my bag, and pulled out the book.

Wickerbottom stared at it, mouth opening and closing. She looked afraid...like she had seen it somewhere.

"Out." She said shakily, barely above a whisper.

"I-I'm sorry?" I shied away, holding the book to my chest.

"OUT! OUT! I WILL NOT HAVE THAT THING IN MY LIBRARY!" Wickerbottom shouted, the look of terror on her face incomprehensible.

I turned tail and ran.


End file.
